Ain't it sad?
by grandHyperbole
Summary: Rating just to be safe and mostly for strong language. So this started as a bunch of prompt list responses, but it is now a series of drabbles based on the "Family". That being Cross, Allen, and Maria.
1. 131: Name

Allen Walker hadn't had a name until he was 4 years old. Before that he'd been "Boy" and "Freak" to the matrons and other children at the orphanage his parents had dropped him off at after he was born. He hadn't known the difference, being only four and only just coming into real awareness of his surroundings. He stayed out of people's way whenever possible and was blessedly ignored until someone decided they needed to take their frustrations out on him.

It was one of those times that led up to him being named. He'd been backed into a corner of the yard, behind some trees where the matrons couldn't see, and getting ready to curl in a ball and wait for the beating to be over when he'd been startled by the loud, unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, but there hadn't been any pain. The following yell had been slightly deeper and higher off the ground than him as well, and the answering snarl had been startlingly feminine. There weren't very many girls at the orphanage, people adopting them more easily for ways to appease their wives and impress their neighbors.

So when he looked up and saw the unmistakable figure of a girl in ragged pants & a shirt too big for her he was understandably confused. Until he realized that her eyes were closed, her fists clenched and an all together terrifying snarl curling her lips. She had to be at least 12 years older than him, so it made sense that the 10 year olds that had been about to beat him up ran terrified for the shelter of the building.

Allen whimpered when she turned to face him, curling tighter into his ball as she slowly crouched beside him, still not opening her eyes. He'd flinched at the light touch of her hand on his head, gently carding through his hair and urging him to look up with a soft word that was much different from the angry growl earlier. She'd smiled as she felt him turn his head up to look at her again, gently trailing her fingers along his cheek.

It was the first time anyone had ever asked if he was alright, the first time anyone had helped and taken care of him in the damnable orphanage. Her voice was soft, as if she were afraid to speak any louder than a soothing murmur, and she didn't open her eyes the entire time. Her laugh sounded like bells when he asked why she wouldn't look at him, when she'd explained that she was blind and thus _couldn't_ and when she'd patted him on the head and forgiven him when he'd blushed brightly and apologized quickly, afraid she'd hate him and turn her wrath on him for offending her. But she'd just ruffled his hair and proclaimed that she liked him, that he was brave and she could respect that.

She gave him a piggy-back back to the playground, scaring away a few older kids to get them a pair of rickety swings to sit on. Allen had never been able to swing before and took delight in it as they talked, being careful not to go to high that he couldn't hear his new friend.

She'd introduced herself as Maria, and had been outraged when he said he was "Boy", or sometimes "Freak". Most times. He thought it might only have been his honest confusion over her rage that stopped the older girl from going to pick a fight with the head matron, but he was glad for whatever stopped her from doing it. She'd sat in silence for a few minutes, stewing and thinking before reaching out to gesture for him to stop swinging. He obeyed, looking up at her curiously as she twisted her swing to face him and smiled, and he thought he probably blushed as red as the blood that stained her knuckles from knocking that kid's baby teeth out earlier.

"Allen. Your name is Allen." She'd said it so matter-of-factly that he'd agreed immediately, smiling so brightly that it almost seemed like she could see it as she smiled back.

It wasn't until he was old enough to really understand, that he was already in the circus, that he was truly grateful. Grateful for everything she'd taught him over the years, how to steal and pickpocket, how to sew without having to see exactly what he was doing so he could make and mend his clothes, and how to throw one of the strongest left hooks in the orphanage, second only to her, and she could throw a mean right hook as well. It was her that taught him how to gamble and cheat, their youth and her blindness seeming to disarm those they played against and make it all the easier for them to trick them out of their money. No one ever seemed to realize she was a girl, and Allen couldn't understand why, given it wasn't exactly hard to tell. So she taught him how to change how he walked and held himself, teaching him the difference between a man's swagger and a lady's flowing walk. It worked for him, since sometimes he could trick the bullies that weren't smart enough to leave him alone already into thinking he was a girl, so if they didn't see his arm they wouldn't' know it was him.

The last time he saw her at the orphanage was at night, after a man in a black coat with gold lining had arrived and talked with her throughout the day, Allen unable to get close enough to figure out what was going on. It hadn't been because the man had particularly cared about his presence, it was because of the _look_ she'd sent him, one that told him to run and hide and keep as far from the man as he could. He wasn't sure how she managed to convey all that, being blind and all, but he'd bolted the moment he fully comprehended the weight of her unseeing stare. He'd hidden in the attic, where they kept their loot and the clothes they'd made when the orphanage had grown too poor to properly support everyone. It was the safest place he could think of, and no one would hear his quiet, hiccupping sobs as he realized she was leaving, that something about that black-coated man meant she wouldn't be there in the morning.

He was right, and after a night of her quietly explaining what she knew & soothing his fear of being alone again, after 3 years of having what amounted to the only mother figure he'd ever known, she was gone. She'd sung him a lullaby up in the attic, the same one she'd sung for him when he was sad all those years since she'd saved him from that beating. His left arm always seemed to tingle and grow lighter whenever she sang, making it all the easier for him to fall asleep curled up against her side with his head in her lap, the feeling of her fingers sliding through his short hair making it all the easier to fall asleep.

The next time he'd seen her was the first time Cross Marian had ever used the Grave of Maria around him. He'd punched the man so hard in the jaw, just as she taught him, that he'd sworn he'd heard the bone break, along with the split lip. The General had smacked _him _so hard upside the head that he'd felt his teeth rattle, but the tall man had been grinning, blood running from his mouth to mix with the red of his goatee before his tongue flicked out to lick up the blood. He'd laughed loudly, ruffled Allen's then white hair, and pronounced that he liked him, that he hadn't been punched like that in years and didn't think he ever would be again. The same way Maria had when they'd first met.

The entire time, Maria had been fawning over him, cooing in the way she always had and playing with his hair, as if she could tell the drastic change in color. Her fingers had slid over the scar on his left cheek and she'd made a low, mournful sound, leaning down to press her lips to the pentacle. Allen was just grateful Cross wasn't the same General that had taken Maria from him to begin with, or he probably would have done more than just punch the man. Maria was _dead_, and it was all the Order's fault. But Cross, who had apparently loved her just as much but in a different way, had done what he could and brought her back, even if she couldn't speak anymore, not like before.

Allen hadn't eaten as well as he did that night in his entire life, at the time, and there were few times after that when he did in Cross' company. Every once in a while the General, usually when he was completely smashed, would look at him silently for a few, nerve-wrecking moments before dragging Allen off to a high end restaurant and letting the boy eat until he was fit to bursting, paying with money Allen was sure he hadn't won because he'd seen Cross spend THAT at a brothel. But Allen didn't complain, never asked and always thanked his Master profusely, making sure he had something around the next morning to nurse the red-haired man's vicious hangover that he only got after those nights of heavy drinking. It was those nights, and the mornings directly following, when Cross would actually call him by his name, rather than "stupid apprentice" and "idiot" and all the other little names he had for his student.

It was always those nights when Maria would sing, the same lullaby as she would at the orphanage. Her Innocence would do something to it, seeming to make it reach everyone in the town, but it never did anything to add to the soothing feel of it. It didn't need to, her voice the same caring, motherly tone it had been when Allen was little and she'd been alive. She'd sit between them, one hand carding through Allen's snow white hair while the other slide through the silky curtain of Cross' red mane, the General long since passed out with his head in her lap and an arm around her waist, while Allen would tuck his head under the man's chin and be lulled to sleep slowly. He couldn't help but wonder, at those times when he was curled up there, like that with the two who were like the mother he never had and, perhaps, like a second father or an uncle, as Cross' drunken ramblings right after he'd found Allen had suggested Mana had been a good friend of his.

His thoughts would drift, and he'd fall asleep smiling, because this is what he imagined having a family was like.


	2. 126: Hymn

Maria's hymns had become commonplace for Allen, the songs comforting and familiar regardless of if her Innocence was involved or not. Even in the midst of battle, if Maria started singing he just knew they'd be all right, that no Akuma could touch them. Akuma or debt collector, actually, but that was really beside the point. Maria, before and after she died, was his mother figure, and her songs were a comfort to him regardless of why they were sung.

That was the thing he missed the most when Cross left him in India. The hymns, and just the singing in general. And not just from Maria. Every once in a while Cross would seem to lose it a little more than usual and would sing, either with Maria or just on his own, always when Allen was supposed to already be asleep. It had startled him something bad the first time he'd heard Cross sing, because he, at the time, had no idea what language he was speaking. He knew now, after flipping through his Master's folder in Komui's office, that the man had been singing in German all those times. It somehow didn't surprise him that Cross was German, despite his preference for wine over any of the harder liquors they had encountered on their travels.

He never mentioned the General's apparent hobby of singing, figuring it was really no one's business, even his own, considering the man had always sung when Allen wasn't supposed to be aware of it. So he kept his knowledge to himself, missing the comforting sounds of his Master and mother finger singing together whenever he'd woken up from the nightmarish memory of the night they'd met. He never made a sound, simply listened until he'd relaxed and calmed enough to fall back asleep to more pleasant dreams.

---

Wandering the deserted halls of the Order's headquarters late at night, it didn't really surprise him to hear the sound of Maria singing coming from the corridor they'd stuck Cross in. It did, however, surprise him when he quietly made his way down the hall and found the guards passed out on the ground, small smiles on their sleeping faces as Maria apparently sang them a lullaby. Cross was coming out of his room, Maria beside him, and both turned to see Allen standing a few feet away looking bewildered.

Cross, being Cross and abusive as he is, hit Allen upside the head so hard it rattled his skull a little, but hadn't admonished him, apparently not wanting to wake the guards. Maria nudged Allen's shoulder to get him to follow his Master, and it only took Allen a few turns to realize they were headed down a hall he didn't recognize, and would probably get lost in should he get left behind. But neither Cross nor Maria left him behind, simply leading him to what was apparently the General's bathes.

He was honestly surprised Cross hadn't left yet, given the power of Maria's lullaby, but he just enjoyed the time he had with his Master and mother without Link or a platoon of guards around to ruin it. Cross' teasing hadn't changed, and Maria's doting was still the same as always, and it was just like it had been before all the chaos of the Fourteenth and the ark and everything else had hit them.

It was the first time Allen had genuinely smiled and relaxed in a long, long while, especially when they separated again to go back to their rooms and the sound of Cross singing with Maria drifted to him before he was entirely out of ear shot. He slept well that night, for the last time that he could remember.


	3. Gen: Apocawhatsit?

**Disclaimer & Warnings!: **I own nothing, as usual, but for the record, if you haven't read the past... 15-20 chapters and hate spoilers, don't read this. There are spoilers abound in here.

**Excuses:** Um... I'm sleep deprived, may or may not be slightly sick, and also appear to be on some sort of caffeine high from not having any in a while. And I'm really talkative tonight, with no one to talk to and noticing that this fic hasn't been updated in gods knows how long, with only two chapters. And... I don't know where I'm going with the other crack. See? Talkative tonight. Oh, and by the way, this also hasn't been beta'd. My beta is sleepin', and this was just finished about four minutes ago. So it's only self-checked.

Eh, have fun. I'm gonna go pass out or something...

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He didn't think anyone else noticed it, not that he really expected them to. He couldn't think of any reason for any of the guards, or the Inspector, or even Komui to notice that the large, black, chain-covered coffin was missing, and he kept his observation to himself, just as he kept Judgment and Cross' mask hidden away for no one else to touch or know about. Maria was gone, just like his Master, but he was positive it wasn't in the same gory way, given the lack of extra blood. After all, Cross Marian was the most obsessively clean person Allen had ever met in his life, and to think that the man would allow Maria or even just her coffin to be soiled in any sort of fight was laughable.

The disappearance of Maria told Allen two things: One, his Master was very much alive, if monumentally pissed off and probably craving the extravagant life-style that charging all his Romani Contiee to the Order had allowed, and two, that he had Maria with him, most likely in pristine condition, and had only not taken Judgment to make it seem like he was really dead.

The appearance of that… _thing_, what had Tyki called it? Apoca-something? Allen thought it might have been something along the lines of "Apocalypse", but more… Latin or French-y, and something that reminded him of Maria's stories of the different myths and such when they were children. But as he was saying, the appearance of the Innocence Zombie-thing had just made him more certain, even if it _had _scared the ever-living hell out of him at first. That defiant look of triumph on his face had cemented in his mind that Cross Marian was alive, drunk as hell, and just _waiting_ to push more debts on him. Sometimes he hated that man, but at least the bastard was alive.

Just thinking about the _fits_ he must have gone into after being covered in all that blood made Allen laugh, sometimes managing to keep it quiet, but more often than not it escaped him, loud and slightly sadistic even. It often prompted Lavi, once Fiddler let him and Bookman go, and Tyki to nervously ask if "Black" Allen was coming to the surface, much to Allen and Rhode's amusement. Every once in a while he'd swear he heard Nea giggling to himself at their fright as well, but he preferred to ignore it, lest the typical Noah grin spread across his face.

Sitting in the library of the Black Ark, he couldn't help but smile to himself. He had Judgment, he had Tim, and he had the oldest bottle of Romani Contiee he'd ever seen in his life with him -which he'd found in the Noahs' wine cellar-, and with the three of them he was determined to find his Master. Even if Adam -ah, his mistake, The Earl- had thrown a mild tantrum over the idea of Cross Marian being anywhere near him for more than 5 minutes. Apparently he hated the man, and Allen could understand completely, he really could, but as much as he rather liked the dynamic of his strange, _strange _newfamily, he missed his mum and Cross, bastard drunkard that he was. The man really had become a second father to him, loathe though he was to admit it most of the time.

Pausing in his thoughts and idle skimming of a book he'd found, hummed in realization. That was right, that freaky zombie-Cardinal had been called "Apocryphos". The Earl had a really weird sense of humor to name it _that_, as far as Allen was concerned. Really, what kind of name, for the bodyguard of your "arch nemesis" of sorts, was "Apocryphos"? Ah well, he'd keep his comments to himself, mostly because the Earl still scared him a little, but also because he didn't want the Earl to stop knitting that really fluffy looking scarf for him.

Who would have guessed the potential destroyer of humanity would be such a hardcore knitter?


	4. Exotic

Cross had once tried to explain his thoughts on Maria -when she was alive- to Allen, during one of his more _completely shit-faced_ ramblings. At the time he hadn't quite understood it, but looking back and comparing what he knew now as opposed to back then, it made a lot more sense. Cross had compared Maria to a tropical in a flock of pigeons, the sort of pigeon that's feathers seem to change color depending on the angle you looked at them. There were tons of them, with the more boring, grey or brown pigeon mixed in, and it didn't matter what sort of food you threw down for them, the entire flock would show up. They were in every city in every country, and you couldn't go a block without seeing one perched on a rooftop or statue, or almost kick one as it wandered around on the sidewalk looking for food scraps.

Maria, though, Maria was like a "Bird of Paradise," though Allen still didn't know what that was. Cross had taken a moment to think about that, trying to explain in his drunken stupor that Maria was like the males, but still feminine and elegant, but the female birds just weren't as pretty. He'd given up when he'd tried to say "feminine" as a way to describe the male birds, his tongue stumbling over the longer word and making him grumble about it in German. Allen had just listened intently, the corpse woman herself playing with his hair in her usual mostly-oblivious state.

The male bird of paradise, as Cross finally got to explaining, was colorful and vibrant, being decorated in all sorts of particular patterns and other things, but all without looking gaudy like some animals did. He'd taken a moment to mutter about "vicious peacocks," but wouldn't acknowledge Allen's incredulous, confused stare. He'd waved off Allen's attempt to ask a question, going on in an unnecessarily loud voice about the tropical avian species. He described them as always being just as fancy looking, just as decorated and amazing to look at, but they weren't always trying to get attention. It was just how they were, and Cross had gestured at Maria pointedly.

The woman was humming to herself and fluttering around the room, her dress swaying with the movements of her hips as she danced elegantly around with Tim in her hands. She was clearly unaware of their attention, singing to the happy golem as he nuzzled her hands affectionately. Maria was always happy, despite being dead, blind, and seemingly without any emotions or soul tied to her memories of either them. She didn't try to get your attention, she just _did_, just the way she moved and kept herself busy between draping herself over Cross or cuddling with Allen in her lap, it was like you were drawn to her. It struck Allen that he couldn't remember a time when Maria wasn't the center of his attention. He could be working on washing their clothes, taking care of that demon flower, tidying up their hotel room, anything, and if Maria was there then he was completely focused on her.

Cross' attention had been completely captured by the woman, and he seemed to have completely forgotten about his ramblings at his student. But he didn't need him to explain, Allen could already understand what he was talking about, even without knowing more than what the General had said about the birds. Maria was the center of their world when she was out, and it wasn't even because she was doing anything particularly exciting, or that they depended on her to keep them safe or alive or anything. She was just… Maria. Elegant, simple, _vibrantly_ happy Maria, and that was all she would ever need to be; the exotic, untouchable beauty in the center of the flock of common pigeons they saw everywhere they went.

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**Lol:** Couldn't you just imagine drunken Cross trying to pronounce "feminine"? XD  
**Go take the poll. Please? :c **


	5. Nightmares

**A/N: **_Holy shit I'm alive._ Which is kinda ironic, since most authors on here are now going back to school, either grade school (haha, losers) or college (baaaaaw my life). I'm technically starting classes on the 6th, but that's neither here nor there, as I'll probably have the same flaky updating schedule. Or, because it's me, I'll probably start updating MORE often. Ah well, either way, we shall see.  
I actually have no excuses for not updating, but I will say one thing; it's all Hoshino's fault! I hate her so much, but I'm a masochistic fan so I love her so hard. I cannot escape...  
(Oh, and it's rated for Cross' mouth, not anything bad.)

**Disclaimer: **I still own nothing and make no profit by doing this.

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The first time Allen ever wandered into his room at three in the morning, tearful and hiccupping pathetically, Cross hadn't had the faintest idea what to do. He'd already established himself with Allen as being cruel and unsympathetic, but for the first time that he could remember, he felt horrible for wanting to send the kid back to the lonely cot that awaited him. He didn't have a paternal bone in his body, and yet he felt a part of himself die a little inside to see that pathetic look on the boy's face, regardless of the abuse he regularly put the brat through. It was a strange feeling, and he couldn't for the life of him deny it.

Despite the fact that the little brat was still giving small, hiccupping sobs, Cross couldn't help the thought that he should do _something_ to make the kid stop crying. He was horrible at dealing with crying women, but apparently he was even worse when it came to crying children that he was actually responsible for taking care of. With a grunt of annoyance, he rolled over in the bed to grab his coat off the chair it was hanging from beside the bed, digging around in one of his pockets for a handkerchief as he growled at the boy standing in the doorway.

"Well, get the fuck over here, useless apprentice." Despite the hoarseness of his voice from sleep and the growling tone he'd used, Allen scrambled over to him, crawling onto the bed beside him where he sat shivering with his arms wrapped around himself, apparently trying to hold himself together. He made a rather pathetic squeaking sound as Cross shoved the cloth in his face, shaking, mismatched hands coming up to take it and wipe his face clean. At least the brat was smart enough to not even bother offering it back to Cross, just reaching over to carefully drop it into the trash, as he knew the older man wouldn't want the snot-covered cloth back.

When the white-haired child made no move to either remove himself or get comfortable, Cross wasn't sure how he could deal with it. He'd still feel like a total jackass if he sent the kid away, what with the way the child was shivering with a combination of fear and the cold, yet he didn't know what to do with him. On the one hand he detested sharing a bed with anyone except a few of the women he frequently slept with. But then on the other, he couldn't help but look at the terrified child and feel guilty for even thinking of sending the child away.

It was with a grudging admittance to his weakness to giant, watery gray-blue eyes that Cross finally grabbed the kid by the waist and tugged him down onto the bed beside him, reaching over to put out the light as the kid flailed in his attempts to understand what was going on. It was only when Cross tossed the blanket over the tiny figure and tugged the brat against his side that Allen finally stopped wriggling, if only because he'd tensed up in fear at being hurt.

"Calm the hell down and go back to sleep, idiot," Cross' voice was muffled by white hair where he was attempting to suffocate himself and his bruised pride, but it came out clear enough to get his point across. Allen slowly relaxed and attempted to burrow into Cross' arms, his shaking subsiding to just the occasional tremor as he gripped the red-haired man's night shirt tightly.

It took everything the General had to not sigh in relief when Allen finally fell asleep, pressed against him like a puppy in his attempts to find comfort and warmth from the man he normally knew as cruel and cold.

It was that night that Cross decided that he never, _ever_ wanted children; he didn't think his pride could take any more exposure to watery puppy-dog eyes.


End file.
